


Welcome to the Crush

by Schuyler



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Epistolary, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-04
Updated: 2007-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/pseuds/Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's hard to drink your problems away when you're savoring every sip." Bob and Ray are wine buyers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had started off so innocuously.

 

From: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
To: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Monday, November 13, 2006 2:30:07 PM  
Subject: Hi!

Hey! Welcome to the family. I bet McLynn's already given you the chart and stuff. Anyway, I met a guy at a party here in Brasilia on Friday who said awesome things about this year's Hungarian rieslings. You should check them out if you're in the area. And feel free to email if you've got questions or whatever.

-Ray  
\---  
Ray Toro  
Senior Buyer, Latin America  
Crush Wines

Bob liked the way Ray wrote. He'd seen a couple of notes that Ray had sent to the whole team, and everyone Bob talked to back in New York thought the world of him.

 

  
From: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
To: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, November 14, 2006 10:10:05 AM  
Subject: Re: Hi!

Hi. Good to make your acquaintance. It's been pretty cool working with you guys, but this is only day number four. And here's a question: Should I be scared of Maja? I talked to Mike the other day and I think he was trying to warn me. -Bob

-Bob  
\---  
Bob Bryar  
Associate Buyer, Germany/Eastern Europe  
Crush Wines

 

 

From: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
To: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Tuesday, November 14, 2006 8:32:09 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Hi!

 

Hahaha. Maja's kind of intimidating, and she's got a sharp tongue, but she's sweet once you get to know her. She might make you prove yourself, though. Are you going to the show with her? -Ray

 

Bob was indeed going to the Michelin Europe Wine Show with Maja. And she did indeed test him.

 

  
From: Maja Ivarsson <maja.ivarsson@crushwine.com>  
To: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Wednesday, November 15, 2006 7:19:00 AM  
Subject: Michelin Europe

Bob,

Welcome to the team. Shall we meet for breakfast at the Intercontinental? 8AM.

Maja

\---  
Maja Ivarsson  
Senior Buyer, Western Europe  
Crush Wines

He met her and her bitchy assistant buyer for breakfast at their hotel. He'd expected her to be larger, more stern, like the sturdy fraulein who lived across the hall from him in Berlin. Instead, she was tiny and demanding and wearing heels when she'd have to be on her feet all day. She was also showing considerably more thigh than he had expected. She knew just when to turn on her smile to ensure exceptional service, and she made decisions quickly when Chris checked her mail on his Blackberry (this happened approximately every four minutes). And then the test:

"We're already promised for lunch and dinner, but perhaps we could meet for a late snack? Compare notes?" Bob nodded. "Fantastic. Ten o'clock. We'll meet you in our suite. Bring a bottle with you."

Now Bob had to be on the lookout for a truly impressive bottle of wine.

 

 

Chris looked as exhausted as Bob felt. He could only imagine how tired they must have been. He himself had easily walked five miles today, and the German booths were crammed beside each other. France was spread out all over the place.

Maja was in an armchair, her stockinged feet propped up, punching away at her Blackberry. "Bob!" she said with a tired smile.

He held up the bottle. "The requested snack." Maja got up to grab glasses for them. Bob opened the bottle with his Swiss Army Knife. "It's an Eiswein from last year, and I think their grapes were perfect for it."

"It's even chilled," Chris said, dry, but approving.

Bob grinned at him before his sip. "I stashed it in my minifridge at lunch."

Maja moaned like she was having sex. "That is so good." Chris nodded approvingly. Maja sipped again. "What did you get it for?" she asked.

"Forty euros a case," he said, and he could feel the approval in her grin.

 

 

There was an email from Ray waiting when he got back to his room. All it said was, "How'd you do?" Bob's reply was just as short. "I think I passed."

 

 

Bob was two and a half sheets to the wind when he got home. He was glad to be home, to be back in his King-sized bed with his decadent sheets. He laid there for a minute, breathing and smiling, then rolled to the nightstand and grabbed his Blackberry.

 

  
From: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
To: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Friday, November 17, 2006 4:53:16 AM  
Subject: This is awesome

Hey. What's up? I was having this moment of loving my life, and I thought I'd see how you were doing, if you loved your life too. What's Brasilia like? Berlin is amazing. I might be biased because I just had dinner at my favorite local place and then saw a wicked loud punk band on the street. I have no idea how their drummer isn't selling out arenas, because I am in awe. How'd you get into wine? How'd you get to Crush? How did you end up in Brazil? I basically just came here as an exchange student and refused to leave. Anyway, I'm about to be in the awful position of trying to go to sleep after the sun comes up, so I'm going to go sleep on the best sheets ever. Goodnight. -Bob

Bob didn't remember that he'd sent the email until halfway through making his traditional hangover breakfast. His eyes opened wide and he abandoned the eggs on the stovetop as he ran for his Blackberry.

 

  
From: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
To: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Friday, November 18, 2006 11:02:45 AM  
Subject: DO NOT READ LAST EMAIL

I just remembered that I sent a probably too personal email last night while drunk. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean to pry. Please delete without reading. -Bob

He got through some work that day and traded a few emails with the guys back at Crush about what he'd found at the show (apparently Maja had raved about him and now they were willing to trust his picks), but that email nagged in the back of his head. His stomach sank when he finally got an email from Ray and the subject line was "Re: This is awesome."

 

  
From: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
To: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Friday, November 18, 2006 10:23:14 AM  
Subject: Re: This is awesome

Hey, no worries. Your email was kind of cute. And, yeah, Maja's been talking up a storm about you. She says you guys had fun together and I kinda knew you would. I like you anyway. I wish I could hear your punk band. I love the music down here, but I miss metal so much sometimes I could cry. I got to Crush by the lamest route possible. Things got a little rough at home, so I decided to start drinking my problems away. Two months later, all I'd succeeded in doing was getting into a fight with the guy at my liquor store about the way they kept my now-beloved white pinots. When I was looking for a new shop, I came across Crush. I'd found that it was hard to drink yourself stupid when you were savoring every sip, and taking a job in South America was probably a better life option anyway.

Brasilia is amazing. Everything just feels alive, you know? The people, the colors, the nature. It's insane. But I'm not the greatest guy with words, so I've attached some pictures of why I like living here. -Ray

Bob immediately went to his computer. It was a little sad how excited he was to see Ray. He got a cup of coffee while he waited for his computer to boot up and load his work email. He nervously swallowed while he found the email and opened it. The first picture was of Carnaval or something, a long procession of dancers in hardly anything but feathers and huge headdresses. The colors were amazing, reds and oranges and dazzling smiles. The second was of a cluttered table in what he assumed was Ray's place. It was covered in dishes, rice and beef and yams and two empty bottles of red. Bob was hungry again just looking at it. The last picture was of a jungle, damp and lush and green. And off to the side was Ray. Bob had seen Ray's picture on the website, but this was different. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a backpack. He was damp with sweat and the muscles in his arms gave Bob Very Bad Thoughts. He was bending forward a little, stretching, and the flash of skin where his shirt had ridden up made those thoughts worse.

Bob blinked twice, then closed the email and pushed away from his desk. He washed his breakfast dishes on autopilot, then called Mike.

"Crush, this is Mike." Bob exhaled. Mike Kennerty was the operations guy at Crush and Bob found his complete knowledge of all things Crush soothing.

They talked for a while about how things were in New York, then Bob said, trying his hardest to sound casual, "So, I've been trading emails with Ray Toro."

"Really?" Mike said. "Ray is an awesome guy. You should ask him about his backpacking trip. He has this thing about waterfalls." Bob thought then of Ray in his white shirt, soaking wet under a waterfall, and that's when the crush moved in and took roost.

 

  
From: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
To: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Friday, November 18, 2006 8:21:44 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: This is awesome.

Hey. Your pictures are awesome. Brasilia looks colorful and gorgeous. It's winter in Berlin, so 90% of the colors are gray. I felt like I should send something back, though, so here's a picture I just took out of my window, and the same view last August during a parade. I hope you like it! -Bob

He neglected to mention that the second picture had himself in it. He hoped Ray liked that.

 

 

The first time Bob talked to Ray on the phone, he was standing in front of the eggplants at his local greengrocer's. "Yeah?" he said.

There was a soft laugh from the other end. "Hey, it's Ray. Is this a bad time?"

Bob almost fumbled his basket. "No, no! Wow. I'm just trying to figure out how you choose an eggplant. What's up? How're you?"

He could hear Ray's smile, and it made him smile too. "Nothing, man. Just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving."

Bob grinned. "Thanks, man. You doing anything special?" Bob checked out and walked the two blocks back to his flat. He was still talking to Ray half an hour later when the groceries were put away and he was just sitting in his quiet apartment, listening to Ray talk about New Jersey. "Shit," Bob said. "This must be costing you a fortune."

"I'm on the company phone," Ray said, laughing. "But I should probably go anyway. Aya and I are doing a whole Thanksgiving dinner. She worries I'll miss home and leave her. But you have a good night."

"Yeah," Bob said. "You too."

He waited nearly an hour before emailing Ray, but the question was killing him. He knew Aya lived with Ray, but did she <i>live with</i> him?

 

  
From: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
To: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Thursday, November 30, 2006 10:14:55 PM  
Subject: I miss turkey

How is your dinner turning out? And who's doing the cooking, you or your roommate? (Or should I refer to her as your girlfriend?) -B

 

From: Ray Toro <ray.toro@crushwine.com>  
To: Bob Bryar <bob.bryar@crushwine.com>  
Sent: Thursday, November 30, 2006 2:31:16 PM  
Subject: Re: I miss turkey

It's turning out pretty great. I'm cooking, and now Aya's screeching about how I have to come with her when she gets married or she'll starve. (You can call her what you want, but she only dates straight boys.) -Ray

 

Bob did not feel his heart flutter like a fourteen-year old girl. He. Did. Not.

 

 

By the time Bob walked into the Crush offices for the very first time on the 28th of December, he and Ray were emailing each other three or four times a day. And talking on the phone twice a week. An hour at least each time. He loved lying in bed and reading Ray's emails, talking to him with all the lights off, and Ray was the first person he told when hilarious things happened to him. He hadn't been on a date since he got the new job. He had, however, jerked off thinking about Ray exactly twice. He knew he should be embarrassed, but both times he came so hard that he almost actually died.

Bob liked Crush. He got hugs from people like they'd been friends for years, not like he was still the new guy. Mike and Bob McLynn took him out for lunch, he'd gotten attacked like he was a rockstar by Brendon Urie, who had discovered a love for eiswein and was shifting tons of them at his tastings, and chatted with the boys and girl on the counter. He'd made plans with Mike to come back in June for the company retreat. Now he was having a quiet second talking to Gaylor, who worked in shipping, and Bill. He hadn't actually figured out what Bill did. His Blackberry beeped and he grabbed it. "Business?" Bill asked. He was perched on Chris' desk and Chris didn't seem to care.

"Sort of," Bob said, thumbing the wheel and smiling a little. "It's from Ray." They'd been trading emails all day. Bob was nervous as hell about his meeting at Crush and Ray was at what was turning out to be a really boring wedding. Bill sighed dramatically. "What?" Bob asked.

Chris grinned. "Bill's just sad that he never managed to get into Ray's pants." Bill kicked him. "Ow, fuck you. You know I'm right."

Bill sighed again. "He's just really nice, you know? And really hot. And really, really gifted."

"Gifted at what?" Bob asked, and Chris couldn't stop laughing. Bill grinned lecherously.

Bob refused to think about it until he was back in his hotel room. Then his Blackberry beeped. All it said was, "Finally done. Can't wait to get home and take a shower. -R." Bob turned on the water in his own shower up as hot as he could stand it and thought about Ray when he wrapped his slick hand around his cock, about Ray's mouth in the picture he'd sent of himself and Aya at the beach and the way his trunks had hugged in all the right places. He thought about Ray fucking him, pressing him face first into his soft sheets, or against a wall, the way Ray's voice would sound sweet, even as he made Bob beg, and he had nothing left but a harsh curse and a trembling gasp when he came.

 

 

Somehow, somehow, organization of the retreat ended up in Pete's hands. Clearly it wasn't intentional, but he always managed to do a great job, so no one shook the boat. "Hey, man!" Pete said when Bob got to the winery. He'd left Berlin at half past ten, flown overnight, and got to the Long Island winery inn they'd rented out before lunchtime. He was welcomed with a big hug from Pete. "You're in room 4," he said, pressing a key into Bob's hand. "Drop your stuff and get a shower or whatever, then come get lunch. It's, like, swordfish or something."

It was salmon, actually, but it was really nice to sit with his new friends, most of whom he'd gotten to know over email and phone, to catch up with Maja and Bob, and eat a really, really good meal. Afterwards, the transatlantic flight and two glasses of fantastic chardonnay hit him. "I think I need a nap," he said, getting up from the table. "Hey, Pete. Who's my roommate?" There had been two neatly made beds, but he hadn't seen any other bags. He was hoping he'd lucked into staying alone.

"Ray. He won't get here until tonight." He didn't miss Pete's sly grin, like he knew what he was doing.

Instead of napping, Bob stayed wide awake and worried.

 

 

Mike found him pacing in the front hallway after dinner. "Dude, what is up?"

"Nothing," Bob said. "Ray emailed to say his flight landed. I'm just waiting."

Mike grinned and put his hand on Bob's shoulder. "Calm down. He's your friend, dude. It's gonna be awesome." They both heard the sound of wheels crunching on gravel. "See, there he is!" Mike opened the door and Bob got this horrible feeling in his stomach like he had misjudged everything. It was the same sensation he'd had in the ninth grade when he'd realized that the girl he'd been flirting with for two weeks was dating the head of the National Honor Society.

He heard Mike saying hi, chatting, and then Ray stepped through the door and he was smiling and tall and real. Like, actually real. "Holy shit, Bob Bryar." Ray took two steps forward and hugged him, and Bob sagged. It felt weirdly right, calming somehow. Ray stayed, hugged him longer than anyone had in a long time, and they exhaled together.

"Lemme show you our room," Bob said softly, and Ray nodded. Ray followed him up the stairs and down the little hall. They had their own bathroom and Bob realized now that their room was set off in a little eave. None of their walls touched anyone else's. Ray dropped his bag by the unmussed bed and he took his shoes off. "How was your trip?" he asked.

"Good, okay. It was kind of a painful flight, but I had something to look forward to." He smiled up at Bob, and Bob felt himself blushing furiously. He sat heavily on his own bed. "Hey, okay," Ray said. "I'm only asking this because I haven't slept in twenty hours or something, but I really like these retreats and I don't want to ruin it by things being all weird. All of those emails, and talking and stuff? Was that flirting? Aya says its flirting, but I don't usually jump to that conclusion."

Okay. Bob really wasn't expecting it to be that ... bald. He dragged his foot over the carpet and tried to talk himself into breathing again. "Is that a problem?" he asked. "If it was?" He tried not to sound defensive, but he felt defensive.

Ray smiled (oh god, he was way way gorgeouser in person. Gorgeouser is not a word, but Bob was sticking by it). "No, not really," he said. "I'd kind of hoped, but if I've got the wrong end of the stick, let me know."

Bob shook his head, and then pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "I was flirting."

Ray exhaled, looked like a load had been taken from his shoulders. "Thank God. My crush was getting kind of embarrassing. And I was really hoping that I could get here and then maybe kiss you, because that would be great." As soon as Ray's brain caught up with his mouth, his eyes opened wide and he slapped his hand over his face. Bob laughed. He couldn't quite stop. This was so fucking surreal. Neither of them had slept in ages, and they were pussyfooting around this, and they'd thought the same thing. Ray wanted to kiss him. He fell on his back, still laughing hard. "Thanks, no," Ray said. "Go ahead and laugh while I die of shame."

Bob shook his head, trying to get his breath so he could tell Ray that this was good laughing, but he couldn't. He really couldn't. He waved at Ray, beckoning him over. He opened his eyes when he felt the bed dip, and Ray was smiling down at him. Bob felt incredibly lucky.  "Sorry," he said, then he reached up and Ray leaned down and they were kissing. They were actually kissing. Bob was trying to figure out if this was the best thing that had ever happened, then Ray shifted and his hand slid down over Bob's hip and the whole world tilted for a moment. When things got sorted out again, he was lying beside Bob and Bob could feel the hunger and the need radiating from him. He moaned low in his throat and Bob's cock joined the party. His hands trembled. Ray licked hard into his mouth, bit his lip, held his hips. Bob arched up, just trying to get further up the bed, and Ray's hand touched skin at his waist where his shirt rode up. "Fuck," Ray said, his hand tightening. "I'm trying so hard not to tear your clothes off."

"Tear my fucking clothes off," Bob said, his tongue chasing the taste of Ray on his mouth. "Fuck, please." He wasn't expecting to Ray to go straight for his pants. He also wasn't expecting Ray to get his pants four inches down, then swear and bend to suck Bob's cock into his mouth. Bob jerked hard and his hand buried in Ray's hair. Ray's mouth was soft and wet and he was sucking so hard. He was strong and Bob couldn't move away, couldn't wiggle free. He knew he should stop Ray, but he couldn't remember why. "Fuck me," he said, pushing Ray away. "I can't, jesus, stop. Want you to fuck me." When Ray looked up at him, his eyes were dark and wild and Bob's breath left in a rush.

"Really?" Bob nodded and Ray started pulling his clothes off fast. Bob just laid there for a long minute, looking at the way the muscles moved on Ray's chest, the promise of power in his thighs. When he finally got out of his shorts, Bob's mouth went dry. He was kicking out of his pants, trying to topple Ray over to suck his cock, and Ray fought him off. "No, later. Promise." Bob whimpered, and Ray smiled (see, still sweet) and leaned in for a kiss. It was so soft and Bob was okay with this. He could just do this all night. But then Ray's hand palmed over his cock and Bob's eyes flew open. "Fuck," Ray said. "I didn't actually pack for this."

Bob realized what he was saying and closed his eyes, pained. "There's condoms in the bathroom. I assumed everyone got them, but now I think Wentz might just be a prying jackass." Ray laughed like someone who knew Pete well, then kissed Bob again, licking at the corner of his mouth, before he got up. Bob was smart enough to open his eyes and watch Ray's ass as he walked away. Ray returned a moment later with a box of condoms and a packet of lube. Bob licked his lips and squirmed further up the bed, his head on the pillow. He watched as Ray bit his lip, focused as he rolled the condom on. "I've been thinking about this for months," Bob said. He couldn't shut up. "Been jerking off thinking about you."

"Dude," Ray said, shaking his head. "If you actually want me to make it over there, you are going to have to be quiet." Bob laughed. Ray was still Ray. That was supremely settling.

Bob happily folded when Ray pushed his leg back, tilted his hips up so that Ray could push one thick finger inside. It was already more than Bob had had in ages, but it felt so good. Ray was looking at him like he was studying for a midterm, like he was nursing a baby bird back to health, checking for life signs. "I won't break," Bob said, gritted out between clenched teeth. "I can take more." Ray didn't respond, just leaned down to scrape his teeth and tongue over Bob's neck while he pushed a second finger in. It was so tight, so much, so intense, but it was Ray, and something about hearing, "Okay?" in Ray's familiar voice made Bob's body relax.

Bob exhaled and nodded. "You now."

Ray shook his head. "Don't want to hurt you," he whispered, and Bob realized they were whispering, keeping everything in this dark, safe place. Keeping this just for them. Ray nudged a third finger in and just before Bob would have cursed from the pressure and pain, Ray curved his fingers and found Bob's prostate like he'd gotten the directions on Mapquest. Bob shivered, shuddered, curving in and twisting and his whole body trying to make that happen again. He was begging before he knew it. Ray smiled and kissed his shoulders, his jaw, while he fucked Bob with slow strokes, rubbing over that spot every time. Bob was so hard that it actually hurt, and his hand was going to his cock before he could think. Ray grabbed his wrist and pinned it down. "Wait for me," he murmured, and Bob turned his face toward that sound, kissed Ray again, tongues slipping and sliding over each other.

When Ray pulled his fingers out and moved between Bob's legs, he waited for Bob to open his eyes and nod, smiling, before he lined up and started to push inside. Bob felt it like a pain in his back, felt sweat break out on his forehead, and he could see how hard Ray was trying to go easy on him, not just take. "Go," Bob said. He wanted to see Ray lose control, and he wanted to be the one to do it to him. "Come on." Ray opened his eyes, clearly a little annoyed by Bob's pissed off tone. "God, seriously." Ray growled and bared his teeth, then rocked in on one long, too-hard thrust. Bob jerked upward, arching into it, and Ray held his hip in place. Bob wasn't sure he could get away from that grip if he wanted to, but Ray tilted his hips until he found the angle that made Bob swear and moan and stayed there, fucking him in short, sharp jabs.

It was the best thing that had ever happened to Bob. To hell with the kissing earlier. Who cared? This was amazing. Ray was getting rougher, faster, looking more and more like he was forgetting Bob was there, but that hand was still on his hip, clenching every so often to bring them closer together. "You feel good," Ray murmured. "Tight and you're actually here and fuck." Bob smiled at that, almost laughed, but he couldn't spare the energy. His whole body was keyed up and focused on Ray's. He knew this was going to hurt in the morning, but it felt so good now that he couldn't care. "You first," Ray said, his eyes opening again and looking straight down at Bob. "Please, you first."

Bob couldn't resist that. He grabbed his cock and spread the wetness with his fingers, then jacked himself hard. Ray's eyes were glued to the sight, and that just made Bob harder. Ray was looking at <i>him</i> like that. And when he came, he would paint white streaks over the tight, tanned muscles of Ray's stomach. That was way too nice to think about. He snapped his teeth together and curled up off the bed, and came. Ray just watched as Bob's cock jerked and took the spatters, then shivered and pushed Bob's leg back, getting enough leverage to fuck Bob hard and fast. The springs squeaked as Ray slammed down again and again, and Bob wondered if the bed would break. But then Ray's cock was swelling in rhythmic pulses and Ray turned his head and moaned, something that sounded like "Bob" and "perfect", and Bob melted from the inside out.

When Ray finally pulled out, Bob's hips were tight. He took his time putting his legs back down. Ray got rid of the condom, and his smile was sheepish as he laid down again. "Sorry about that," he said, his hand covering Bob's hip.

Bob smiled. Only Ray could sound that shy and virginal when he'd just given Bob the fucking of his life. "Shut up," Bob said, and he tugged Ray down for a kiss. Twenty seconds into it, Ray yawned so wide his jaw cracked, and Bob was about to laugh, when he yawned too.

"It's been a long day," Ray said, and Bob got the distinct impression that Ray was cuddling him close, tucking Bob in against him and reaching for the blanket. "We should probably get some sleep." His voice was so soft and caring that Bob couldn't complain. Ray curled in behind him, and put a protective hand over Bob's stomach, and Bob liked the warm weight of that. He was going to say something, maybe goodnight, but before he meant to be, Bob was fast asleep.


	2. The Whole Aya Package

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deleted scene!

"So, what did your boyfriend say today?" Aya asked, picking at the grapes on the kitchen counter.

"He's not my boyfriend," Ray said, but his voice was soft and he blushed. Aya clucked her tongue. "He wants to know which one of us cooks."

"You cook!" Aya said, stamping her little foot.

"What will you do when you get married?" Ray asked, hitting the reply button. "It will be just you then."

"Nooooooo," Aya cried, running across the room and flinging herself into Ray's lap. Once a day he thanked God that Aya only weighed 115 pounds. "You have to come with me, Ray Toro," she said, stretched dramatically over his lap. "I will starve!"

"Come with you when you get married?" he asked, tilting her upright. "Will your husband like that?"

"Who cares?" she said, getting up and flipping her hair. "You are part of the whole Aya Package."

It had been an accident that he had ended up living with her in the first place. He'd fallen in love with a two-bedroom apartment that was out of his price range and showed it to four rejected potential roommates before Aya showed up, tiny and wearing four-inch heels, damp with rain and still imperious as hell. "You're so cute!" she'd screeched. "And you can reach the lightbulbs."

Ray thought Aya was pretty cute too.

Aya was from the Dominican Republic and felt that she and Ray should stick together. She was a drag performer in a crazy little cabaret and she screeched and spit at his feet whenever Ray divulged that her birth name was Hector. She cooed and praised Ray endlessly when he made dinner, and she listened when he prattled on about wines. He loved her dearly.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shelly. Thanks to Eleanor, who helped me build the world.


End file.
